Chapter 6: Promises

When she woke up suddenly, she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She hadn't been having a nightmare, and it wasn't because he wasn't lying next her since she was used to sleeping alone. It was still dark out, the faintest glow of morning just illuminating the room through the curtains.

Malia sat up slowly, looking around the dark room until she noticed him standing over by the dresser, putting on his watch. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, taking in his appearance as her eyes started to adjust. He wore a suit, his badge hanging on a chain around his neck. Her brows furrowed.

"Did I wake you?" Stiles asked, moving over to the bed.

"No, no… what's going on?" Malia replied, her eyes confused as he sat down next to her, his eyes leaving her face. She put her hand on his cheek, turning his head so he looked at her again. "Stiles, I want to know."

He swallowed, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "The station called." He said finally, his voice low. "They had good news and bad news. Good news, I've been promoted to detective. It was a hasty decision, but they think I've been working really hard and decided to give me a shot at it."

Malia tucked her legs underneath her, a smile spreading across her lips. "That's great! Oh my God, Stiles, that's amazing." She paused, remembering that he had more to say. "But… what's the bad news?"

"They're transferring me. To the next county over. I told them I didn't want to go, but it was kind of a 2-in-1 deal and… and I couldn't just say no. Not to something like this." He was wringing his hands, not looking at her again. Malia removed her hand slowly, the news finally hitting her.

Her mouth hung open slightly when she realized what this meant. She shut her eyes, willing herself to keep it together, to keep her voice even, to keep the tears at bay.

She licked her lips. "How long?"

"I don't know," he said, exhaling heavily, running his hands over his face. "They're working on a big case. It could be a couple of days, it could be weeks…"

Malia was out of the bed then, so fast that Stiles seemed surprised that she could move so fast.

She didn't say anything, just ran around the room in a sudden hurry, grabbing her clothes, trying to think. But all she could think of was how she had to get out, had to get some air.

She couldn't breathe.

"Malia, come on," Stiles insisted, on his feet now, too, hesitating at first to touch her until he realized that she wasn't listening anymore. "Malia." He grabbed her arm, making her stop. When her eyes found his face, he had a pained expression there, a sadness in his eyes that mirrored what she felt deep inside.

She choked back a sob. "You're leaving," she finally managed to say.

He brushed her hair out of her face, his thumbs gently rubbing her cheeks, catching a stray tear as it slipped free from her eye. "I'll be back," he murmured, before pulling her toward him, wrapping his arms around her. Stiles pressed his lips to her hair, his hands squeezing her slightly,

"I promise."

For a moment, she let herself believe that things would be okay. He said he would come back, so it should have been, right? But the second he released her, she felt the weight again, like her world was crashing down around her.

Malia pulled on her jeans, shoving her feet into her shoes without looking at him. "I'm gonna be late for work," she said simply, before turning and leaving, grabbing her purse on the way out.

—

"You didn't even say goodbye?"

Kira was staring at her, wide-eyed and concerned - Malia sighed, forcing a tight smile while she rang up the next customer. She hadn't intended on telling her, but the expression that had been on her face when she'd shown up that morning had given it all away.

The brunette scribbled the customer's order onto a cup with her marker, setting it down on the counter before turning on the coffee maker. "It's -"

"Don't say 'it's nothing' because we both know that's not true," Kira told her, pressing her lips together. "You told me yourself that it felt like the world had stopped on its axis when he told you he was leaving. Why did you just run out of there?"

"Because I wasn't ready to say it, okay?" Malia snapped, turning on her friend. "Look," she sighed, "for all we know he's long gone by now and I won't have another chance. What's done is done."

Kira looked at Malia for a long moment in silence, her eyes full of sympathy. Then she looked away, and almost instantly straightened up.

"I wouldn't be so sure…"

Malia looked up then, her eyes finding Stiles, standing in front of her on the other side of the counter. Even though she'd just seen him a few hours ago, he looked somehow different. His eyes were red, his hair messy, like he'd been running his fingers through it too many times.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "What are you doing here?"

"Can we talk?"

"I'm working…"

Stiles looked at Kira, who came to life as if on cue, shooing Malia out from behind the counter and insisting that she could take it from there. Having no choice, Malia followed Stiles across the room.

"Stiles, unless you're going to say that they've changed their mind about sending you away, I don't think I want to know what you have to say," she said.

He exhaled. "No, they didn't say that," he admitted, and she started to turn away, only to be pulled back by his hand on her arm. "Malia, I couldn't stand leaving things the way they had ended this morning. I don't want you to think that I'm abandoning you. I'm coming back, I swear."

Malia shook her head. "But what if it's not just a few weeks? What if they ask you to stay longer? What if you get hurt - or worse?" She swallowed again. "How can you promise me something like that when even you don't know what could happen?"

"Don't think about that. Think about the good, not the bad. Think about us," Stiles insisted, his hands on her face now, making her look at him. "I can promise you that because… well, I love -"

She pressed a finger to his lips, her gaze growing serious. "Don't. I want you to promise me something else," Malia told him. "You can only tell me that when you come back to me." She sighed. "Not a second before."

"When," he repeated, his voice quiet.

"Well, you wanted me to think of the good," she replied, letting him slide his arms around her waist. "Don't make me regret it."

Stiles smiled, kissing her long and slow, memorizing the feel of her lips against his. It was a long moment before she let him release her, and then he was gone again. But something had changed - the weight was lifted, but the worry was still there.

—

Malia didn't have to look up to know that her best friend was staring at her. She poked around her plate with her fork uninterestedly, pushing around a few fries as her eyes flitted to her phone where it lie at her elbow. But no matter how many times she willed it to, it never rang.

After a long minute, Kira finally sighed. "Alright, we've been here for an hour and you still haven't eaten a thing."

"He still hasn't called," Malia said flatly, stabbing a french fry and taking a pointed bite out of it in the hopes that Kira would drop the concern. Her darker-haired counterpart leaned back in her seat, shaking her head.

"Haven't we already established that phones work two ways? And that Stiles is an idiot when it comes to calling you," Kira offered a small smile. "Besides, it's only been two days. He'll contact you soon. Everything's probably just busy -"

"You don't know that," Malia retorted.

Kira rolled her eyes. "You're right, I don't. But unlike you, I like to see the best in most situations."

At that moment, the owner of the coffee shop, Bobby Finstock, came in, mumbling something to himself as he brushed the snow off of his coat. He noticed the two of them sitting there only a few seconds later.

His eyes found Malia, and he said, "You look like shit."

"It's nice to see you, too, Bobby," Malia muttered, setting her fork down. "What are you doing here? It's New Year's Eve -"

"I had to get out of the house. I'm surprised this place is still open - I thought we were closed on New Year's Eve." Finstock said, looking around. Malia and Kira exchanged a look.

Kira cleared her throat. "Uh, no, we're open pretty much everyday. You're the one who said being closed on holidays was 'a load of crap.'"

Finstock narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering for a second if she was sassing him, but after a moment he realized that he probably had said that at some point and let it go. "Well if that's the case, what're you two doing sitting around? Be useful and get me a coffee."

Kira started to stand up, but Malia was faster. "No, I'll do it." Despite how crass their boss could be, she was glad for the distraction. She didn't know how much longer she could stand sitting there under Kira's watchful, concerned gaze.

Besides, she needed to do something other than stare at her phone. One more minute of him not calling and she'd probably explode.

As Malia walked across the shop to the counter, she noticed that Finstock had sat down in one of the armchairs, pulling a rolled up newspaper out of the inside of his coat. Her eyes caught the headline on the front page when he opened it - something about increases in crime rates around Beacon Hills. She swallowed, trying not to think anything of it as she grabbed a mug from the cabinet and turning on the coffee machine.

But it wasn't that easy.

"Can you believe these idiot journalists think that some organized crime is being committed by professionals? You know what I think?" Finstock said, talking out loud to no one in particular. "I think it's probably a bunch of teenagers with nothing better to do."

"Yeah," Kira murmured as she cleared the table that her and Malia had been sitting at. "Probably." She glanced at her friend, but Malia made a point not to meet her gaze.

"Two police officers have been shot since last week," Finstock shook his head, a frown on his face. "They've really gotta get better people out there. Is everyone a goddamn teenager these days?" Malia could feel the blood drain out of her face. The mug in her hand slipped, but luckily Liam appeared then, back from his break, and caught it.

He furrowed his brows. "You okay?"

Malia blinked, returning from a dark place deep inside her head. She just stared at Liam for a second, before shaking her head. "I need to make a phone call," she told him quickly. "Can you get Mr. Finstock his coffee? Thanks." She didn't wait for him to respond, before slipping past him and heading for the door, grabbing her phone off of the table on her way out.